


Wolf and the Moon

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Voidsinger [8]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Darkmoon Faire, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Sinnlyra Voidsinger visits the Darkmoon Faire on business before meeting up with a friend.
Series: Voidsinger [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796173
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Wolf and the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Alvenyr Moonsorrow and Spector belong to @Vaethryn on Twitter! You can find art of them and her other work here: https://twitter.com/vaethryn
> 
> This story is being told in a combination of in game role playing and writing done by me in collaboration with Vae.
> 
> The song Alv and Lyra sing together was inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7ejbNmyJ04  
> (Lyrics not included in the story due to copyright concerns.)

Lyra leaned in, squinting as she inspected the stitching on the tabard before her. The carnie stood there patiently as she inspected his garb, his eyes flicking around the crowds, attentive even as he was being scrutinized. The Darkmoon Faire was in town again, and she had decided to take advantage of that fact after a long work day to take a closer look at the less glamorous side of it. The tabards of the fair had caught her eye several times, but this was the first she had been able to inspect one up close despite the many times she had visited previously. A polite inquiry to an orc who had nodded to her in a friendly manner as he leaned against a stanchion had fulfilled the desire to get a closer look, revealing a delicate intermixing of dyed threads that yielded bright pops of color.

“Tell me, who does all of the tailoring for you and the rest of the crew?” She asked quietly. The orc glanced down at her, giving her a toothy grin at her question. The breeze wafted the scent of sweets and fried foods toward them. She resisted the temptation to close her eyes and savor the aroma, instead focusing on the gentleman before her.

“You’ll be wanting to speak to Selina. You passed her on the way into the fair. Undead lady, first tent on the left right as you come in. Can’t miss her.” He pointed the way with one meaty hand, his Common heavily accented. His brown skin and tattoos showed that he was a Mag’har, a new arrival to Azeroth, a fact she found intriguing though she decided against asking. A bone and leather bracelet clicked as he swung his arm back down to his side. 

“Thank you, and thank you for letting me look at your tabard. I sincerely appreciate it.” Lyra offered him a small hand, tucking a few gold in his much larger one when he accepted it to shake. He bowed to her appreciatively, the gesture sincere, before turning and continuing on his rounds, whistling cheerfully. She smiled after him, turning to head back to the front of the fair only to be drawn up short by the familiar skull faced visage of a friend.

“Spector! How lovely to see you.” Lyra exclaimed, pleased to see the Forsaken man. She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, delighted to see someone she had come to consider a friend. He flipped her a jaunty salute, his eyes creasing into a smile. As always, he was dressed in his normal black ensemble marking him as one of the crew that assisted with Blight Boar shows. 

“Ya know, if you wanted a tabard, I could just get you one.” He said cheekily. She shook her head at his offer, amused. Spector had an uncanny way of showing up and offering assistance and commentary at the oddest times, especially where Alvenyr was concerned. It pleased her that he had sought her out even though she was not with the demon hunter this evening.

“That isn’t necessary, my dear. I merely wanted to discuss some embroidery techniques with your resident tailor. Her use of color is marvelous and I’d like to see if she’d be willing to talk trade with me.” He gave her a slightly skeptical look, but gestured for her to follow him. A family of trolls passed them, the children gamboling about excitedly as they pointed out the sights to their tolerant parents. Lyra offered the little girl a smile when she met her eyes, and was pleased when the tiny child offered her an enthusiastic wave in response. 

“Alv was right. You do have a work streak a mile wide.” She had only taken a few steps but stopped, staring at him. He snickered, pulling a cigarette from his jacket and lighting it. “What, you think your lover boy wouldn’t talk about you?”

“Didn’t seem like he would.” She replied slowly, honestly shocked that Alv had mentioned her to his friends. A tiny, pleased smile tugged at her lips as she considered the implications. Spector laughed, smoke billowing out from his mouth, jerking his chin toward the fair gate once again.

“Come on, groupie. Let’s get you sorted with Selina. She’s always enthusiastic to meet fellow tailors.” When she snarled at his use of Alv’s nickname for her, he laughed and took another drag on his cigarette before crushing it out and flicking the spent end toward an overfilled trash can. A draenei in a Darkmoon tabard nodded to Spector as she approached, pulling a trash bag out of her belt with a long suffering sigh. He merely shrugged at her and pulled Lyra out of the way of a stumbling drunk tauren who was singing at the top of his lungs.

“I know what that means, you know,” she replied tartly, lifting her skirt to avoid dragging her hems through a puddle of mysterious liquid. “And I cannot imagine what ever gave either of you the impression that I’m sleeping with any sort of band member.” She mimed throwing something at his head when he just laughed at her, but fell into companionable silence as they navigated the crowds pressing further into the fairway from the gate. Spector tugged her over to an undead woman welcoming fair goers, her welcoming smile fading into a scowl when she saw the man approaching.

“Selina, this is Lyra, Lyra, Selina. She wants to talk work stuff with you.” Spector said as Selina rolled her eyes at him. Lyra covered a smile with her hand. It seemed Alv and Spector had more in common with one another than just musical tastes.

“Work stuff? What is that even supposed to mean? You couldn't be more vague if you tried. Begone, Spector. Don’t you have your own "work stuff" to do?” Selina demanded, moving to lightly poke him in the side. He dodged her hand, offering both women a wink and disappearing in a cloud of dark smoke, his own brand of magic. Selina shook her head then put her hands on her hips, appraising Lyra from head to toe. “Tailor, I’m guessing?”

“That’s right. I was hoping to speak with you about your embroidery on the tabards.” Lyra said quietly, offering her hand to shake. Selina shook it briskly, the tailoring calluses on her hand meeting similar ones on Lyra’s own. She raised her eyebrows with approval and nodded slowly, reassessing her initial impression of the void elf.

“Easy enough. Come in the tent, I’ve my workbox handy. You can poke and prod at some of the tabards I have here and then try your own hand at it with some banners. No one looks too close at them so it doesn’t matter if you make mistakes, so you can practice a bit. I’ll teach you what I know, and you can help me fix up some banners for around the fair. Deal?”

“Just so,” Lyra replied, ducking through the tent flap Selina held open for her. She glanced around the confines of the tent, astounded by the riot of color and pattern that met her eyes. Darkmoon Faire eyes glowered from tabards hung neatly around the space, while pieced together banners were stacked neatly on a table. Though the prevailing scent of canvas held a slight hint of mildew, the place was a haven for any sort of tailor. Everything was neat and orderly, tools hanging within easy reach for whomever worked there, cloth stacked neatly in piles according to color and texture. Selina offered Lyra a small, proud smile when she saw the approval on her face.

“Tell me your skill level, and don’t lie, girl. I need to know what I can toss at you and how much hand holding you’ll need.” Lyra straightened and gestured at her clothing. Tonight she was wearing a green silk dress with a black underbust corset lined with golden piping. Her chatelaine, enchanted gold to match, hung from the belt around her waist. Raven feather pauldrons graced her shoulders, the silky black feathers complimenting her corset well. She reached into the black leather pouch that hung next to her chatelaine and withdrew one of her cards, offering it to Selina, who took it with a sniff and read it. Her eyebrows raised as she appraised Lyra with a respectful gleam in her eyes.

“I made this dress, corset, and shoulder pieces. Does that answer your question?” Lyra asked, pride in her voice. She was particularly pleased with the way this dress had turned out. It was comfortable, functional, and rather fashionable. The loops and whorls of embroidery held strong enchantments that assisted boosting her magic as well as protecting her from harm. It had taken her nearly a week to complete, but the effort had been well worth it. She was rather pleased with the fine figure she cut.

“That it does. Lovely work. You’ll do.” Selina twisted the card in her fingers, making it disappear in a puff of black smoke before clapping her hands and rubbing them together. “Now, let’s get you started, shall we?”

The next hour was spent pleasantly, the pair of them trading their knowledge and skills. Selina made excellent company, her witty coarseness softening into appreciation and respect for Lyra’s skill. She answered questions deftly, without mincing words, her direct approach and clear instructions endearing her to Lyra. When they began discussing their love of their work, Lyra knew she had finally found a kindred spirit of a kind, and was deeply pleased by the fact. When Selina inspected the banner Lyra had pieced together and declared it one of the best she’d seen, Lyra flushed with pleasure and joy, though she tried to wave off the compliment.

“If you ever want a job, know there’s a place here for you, girl. I wouldn’t mind retiring someday.” Selina grinned, hanging the banner with a set of clothespins from a line that crossed the circumference of the tent. She inspected it from the new angle, twitching it so it hung correctly. “I’ll be keeping this one. It’s too good to sully out in the weather.”

“That is a very tempting offer,” Lyra admitted, tucking her needles back into their case. She leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “I have many fond memories of the fair.” She smiled to herself, wondering if the reason for those memories was somewhere off raising hell. Music had drifted on the wind through the canvas of the tent earlier, telling her she had missed a Blight Boar concert. Not that she minded; there was only one person she’d attend that mosh pit with and he wasn’t with her.

“Silas is a good man. He’s fair, and he protects his own.” Selina stood and stretched, groaning a little as her back popped. Her joints cracked in a very unpleasant way. It was clear that time was not on her fellow tailor’s side. “You could do worse.”

“I will keep it in mind, thank you.” Lyra stood as well, rubbing her neck and stretching her hands one by one. Selina watched, nodding with approval as she shook them out. A good artisan knew to keep all of the tools of their trade in good order, including the hands that used them. “I had best be going. Thank you, Selina. I appreciate the lessons and the company.”

“Pleasure was all mine. Stop by any time.” The undead woman brushed aside the tent canvas, allowing a breath of air into the space sending cloth flapping idly on their lines. “You’re always welcome.”

“I know Stormwind isn’t the most accepting of places, but if you’re ever there for whatever reason, please feel free to come calling.” Lyra mentally sighed as she realized once again her shop’s location was an issue for her friends. “I may move locations eventually. If I do, I will send word.”

“You do that. Fare thee well, Lyra.” Selina bowed slightly, flipping the tent flap shut behind her. Lyra stepped out into the fairway, not really paying attention to where she was going, her mood pleasantly high from the brief interlude with her fellow tailor. It startled her when she collided with someone, stumbling slightly until the person reached out and steadied her so she could get her feet under her again. She bit back a curse, twitching her skirts from around her legs before glancing up at the person she accidentally bumped into.

“Hey, groupie.” Her heart stopped as she recognized the low raspy chuckle that came over her head. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she looked up and met the fiery eyes of Alvenyr, who still held her by the arms, his hair falling around his face as he looked down at her. Any apology she had for her unwitting rudeness died when she saw his amused expression. Her eyes narrowed when she appraised him, ignoring the sensation of his thumbs running over her upper arms.

“How long have you been waiting there, imp?” Her suspicion grew when he just gave her a smirk and leaned down to kiss her softly. She smiled against his lips, laying her hands lightly on his chest, her suspicion fading into a small bubble of giddiness. The kiss, though short, still made a blush rise to her cheeks as he released her and stepped back. The friendly, casual way they exchanged affection was one of the highlights of their relationship. He gave as good as he received, even though she sensed hesitation in him at times. She reached up and pushed his hair to the side so she could see his face more clearly, mentally sighing over the snarls she saw in it.

“Spector said you were here. Working.” She ignored his look of disapproval and wrapped her arm around his, sliding her hand into his until their fingers intertwined. His glance flicked to their joined hands, but he didn’t pull away. “Whatever happened to being carefree?”

“Sometimes spending time with another person who is just as passionate as you are about something can be just as enjoyable as riding a roller coaster, love.” The expression of doubt that crossed his face made her laugh even as she tugged him further into the fair. He pulled against her slightly, the doubt fading into mischief as he made her drag him behind her. She laughed, delighted with his playfulness. “What, you don’t want to spend time with me simply because I didn’t go to the concert with you for once?”

“Nah.” He relented when he saw she had been dragging him toward the roller coaster. “Just wanted to be sure you aren’t overworking or something.” He smirked when she paid their fare and dragged him into the cart with her. “Aren’t you dressed a little too fancy for this?”

“If I lose a few feathers I’ll just get more,” she replied impishly, kissing his shoulder. As short as she was, it was the only part of him she could reach without having to drag his face down to her. “Besides, it wouldn’t be a visit to the fair without riding this contraption with you now would it?” The wicked grin he leveled her way as their cart began to make its way up the incline was just as rewarding as she had hoped, though it boded no good for her heart rate. She glanced down meaningfully before meeting his gaze, silently challenging him. It took him a second to look down at her lap and realize she hadn’t buckled up, his grin widening into understanding on his handsome face. 

“If that’s the case, then you’d best hold onto me, groupie. We’re about to go for a wild ride.” The arm he threw around her shoulders quaked with his suppressed laughter as the roller coaster plunged them down the first of many series of hills. She shrieked as he tucked her closer to him to steady her, his own laughter prompting her to fall into a fit of giggles. They laughed their way through the smaller hills until it came time for the tallest one. Alv stood, pulling her up with him, wrapping both arms around her. Her heart in her throat, she echoed his gesture, ignoring the shouts of protest that reached them from below. Alv looked down at her as the cart teetered, ready to start the final descent of the ride, the fel fires in his eyes flaming slightly brighter with anticipation.

“Hold on tight.” He warned as she clutched him tighter, shrieking as she felt the cart disappear from under their feet as he launched the two of them off the ride. There was a short jerk as wings popped from his back, sending them into a glide. She squeaked, breathless, the sensation of falling making her press herself as tightly as possible against him. Though as exhilarating as flight with Alv could be, she felt no fear, only comfort and excitement. Faint angry shouting from the carnie running the ride met her ears, though it was drowned out by the sound of her frantic heartbeat and his uproarious laugh in her ear. She risked a glance down and saw people pointing up at them before tucking her head once again against his chest as he spiraled them down to the fairway below. She felt him shift as he righted them both to land, stumbling from the added weight of a passenger. To his credit, he didn’t drop her but twisted so she landed on top of him, softening her fall. They both wheezed a moment, the breath driven out of them, before they looked at one another and began laughing.

“Are you alright?” She asked, brushing her hair back so it wasn’t falling in his face. He grinned up at her, blowing his own hair out of his face and nodding. They had landed against several bales of hay meant to feed the animals in the menagerie, the dry stalks going every which way from the impact. She reached over and plucked a few strands from his hair, chuckling when he did the same to her.

“Yeah. You?” The look on his face turned oddly soft as he reached up and pushed her hair back from her face, his hand lightly brushing her cheek. She froze, realizing just how intimate the moment was, a sudden bout of nerves warring with her desire to lean down and kiss him. He solved the dilemma for her after a moment by turning away, scrambling to his feet and pulling her up after him. She busied herself by brushing the remaining hay from her dress, not looking at him though she felt his eyes on her. 

“I’m fine, thank you. That was thrilling.” She glanced at him, relieved to see his smirk had returned. He mirrored her, missing large patches of hay until she reached out and brushed them off for him. “And to think the first time we rode that thing I was scared to death.”

“Admit it, you just wanted an excuse to get your arms around me.” When she sputtered with rage, his grin grew into an outright laugh. Her rage turned into a squeak when he swept her up once again, tossing her over his shoulder as he carried her down toward the beach. “There’s no denying it, we both know it's true.”

“I do not! Alv, this is undignified!” Her protests fell on deaf ears as people in the crowd turned to look at them. She sighed, resigned to her fate, propping her chin on her hand and going along with it, nodding politely and smiling at people as she was carried past them. She made a rude gesture to Spector as they passed him, making him practically double over with laughter when he saw the pair of them. The crunch of gravel soon gave way to grass underfoot, and then sand as Alv walked them both down to the place on the beach where they had spent their first date together. A slight shift in his shoulder was the only warning she got before he unceremoniously dropped her onto the sand. She glared up at him as he sped off, leaving her behind.

She stared off after him, feeling grumpy because of the truth behind his accusation, rising so she could try to get herself in some order before taking the nearby portal back to Stormwind. A few feathers drifted down from her shoulders to land on the beach, making her sigh, though she had admitted earlier to being able to replace them easily. The chatelaine was tangled despite her enchantments on it to prevent that from happening, but she was relieved to see everything was still there and intact. She nearly missed Alv’s arrival as she tidied herself up. When she raised one delicate brow at him, he gestured to the guitar case on his back and said,

“Wouldn’t be a beach party without some music now would it?” He held up a finger, grinning down at her. “You get one song, and then you’re going to get your ass through that portal and go to bed.”

“And what gives you the right to dictate what I do with my life?” Lyra demanded, lowering her hands from her hair to place them on her hips. She stepped forward and tapped him firmly in the center of his chest. “And who are you to tell me to be responsible? You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word if it whacked up upside the head with a shovel!” Her waspishness was born of embarrassment and lingering adrenaline. The fact his grin continued to widen as she berated him didn’t help. “And stop smirking at me you unconscionable man!”

“You do get feisty when you’re angry.” Alv’s deep voice was laced with no small amount of pride as he leaned down to silence her with a lingering kiss. She growled but closed her eyes when he chuckled, cupping her head in his hand to deepen the kiss. Her hands went up to caress his face, her thumbs skimming his jawline to feel the roughness of the stubble on his cheeks. Before they parted, she nipped his bottom lip playfully, startling a laugh out of him though she was still a little breathless. She mockingly glared at him, no longer angry, her mind calculating even as her heart raced. He released her and sat with a grin.

"I won't tell you how to live your life, groupie, but I will make sure that you take care of yourself even if it makes you angry with me." He traced a finger along the edge of her ear, his grin turning slightly serious for a moment. She bit her lip, considering his words. His rough sort of charm and care had grown on her, and he was right all told. She was not the best at taking care of herself, though she was getting better at it. Between his and Tyr's gentle bullying, she had regained much of her strength over the past few months. She sighed as he ran his hands down her arms to her hands, admitting defeat with a nod. 

“Alright, Alvenyr. One song.” Her voice was still a little breathless as she settled herself on the sand. He plopped down next to her, reverently pulling his guitar from the case. Seeing the guitar strap she had made for him still adorning the instrument softened her mood, though the knowing smirk he gave her when he slid it over his shoulder and laid his fingers on the strings nearly made her choke. She had poured all of her skill and no small amount of affection into the gift and it showed. She reached out and touched it, sending a tendril of power into it to ensure the enchantments were still holding. Alv watched, his eyes narrowing. She could feel him inspecting what she was doing with his altered sight, and was pleased to find everything was holding properly before releasing her magic back into the ether.

“Get a lot of compliments about this strap.” he said, his fingers whisking over the strings as he ensured the guitar was in tune. He fiddled with a peg and plucked the string again, turning a soured note sweet. “Folks like it a lot. Spector’s jealous.”

“Well it is a one of a kind item.” She replied tartly as she watched him, completely fascinated. Once again she was struck by just how odd a man Alvenyr was, his chaotic side melting into flashes of a hidden personality that lurked just beneath the surface. He met her gaze and gave her a tiny smile as he strummed a few short chords. “If Spector would like one, I wouldn’t mind making him something to match.”

“And ruin this being unique? Nah. So, what would you like to hear, groupie?” Lyra smirked in response but hummed a few bars of a love song she knew would drive him crazy to have to play. When he rolled his eyes and groaned after recognizing it, she laughed.

“Really? A love song? Why not something with a cool guitar riff or a Blight Boar song?” Alv demanded, affronted. “I’m the lead guitarist of a metal band and you want me to sing a damn love song?”

“You did say I get one song before you toss me through the portal, and that’s the one I chose,” she replied primly. A small act of petty revenge could often go a long way to salvage a bruised bit of dignity. “It’s been stuck in my head all day, and so I’d like to hear it. And don't worry, imp, I won't tease you too badly for knowing it well enough to know it's a love song.” He scoffed and groaned again, running his fingertips along the metal strings of his guitar. The discordant sound made her wince a bit, but she tilted her head to the side, nonplussed.

“There are thousands of better songs out there and you chose that one?” He sighed but set his hands to the strings, plucking a few notes. She softly began to sing along with him as he began the familiar, haunting song she had chosen, their voices blending in perfect harmony along with whispers of the waves on the sand.

The song she chose was one of love between a wolf and the moon. As Alv softly sang of the wolf’s fight with a bear leaving it wounded in the cold, she wondered if he’d catch the hidden meaning behind her choice. She sang the repose, smiling a silvery smile of her own as the moon wrapped the wounded wolf in a blanket of stars, healing him while he slept. Lyra watched the demon hunter’s raven hair fall carelessly over his shoulder as he continued to play, unable to take her eyes off of the chaotic, yet shockingly deep man next to her. When he glanced up and caught her gaze, color rose in her cheeks as she realized just how much he had come to mean to her in the months since he first gave her that cheeky wink before leaping off of the Repose.

Alv’s hands stilled on the strings as their voices faded together. The hiss and sigh of the surf was soon the only sound on the beach as even the fair seemed to fall silent after their duet. They stared at one another for a long moment before Lyra leaned forward and kissed him softly, drawing back to give him the warm smile she only ever seemed to find on her lips whenever he was around. Comprehension seemed to dawn on his face slightly as to why she had truly chosen that song, though she wasn’t about to stick around for him to ask her any questions.

“Good night, Alvenyr.” She murmured coyly, standing to make her way toward the portal that would take her back to Stormwind. She resisted the urge to look back when she heard his hands slip from the strings, the discordant notes following her across the sands. The familiar sensation of falling through space didn’t even phase her as she arrived back in the Mage Tower, a sigh escaping her lips. Yet another good night, she thought to herself as she hummed the love song as she made her way home, hope rising in her heart.


End file.
